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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27252148">Bringing It Back</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverFascinated/pseuds/EverFascinated'>EverFascinated</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverFascinated/pseuds/Nenagh24'>Nenagh24 (EverFascinated)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fictober 2020 [21]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BAMF Stiles, Cannot stress how much this isn't angst, Drabble, Fictober 2020, Getting Back Together, Kidnapped Peter Hale, Kidnapped Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Necromancer Stiles Stilinski, Spark Stiles Stilinski, The major character death is Peter again</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:27:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,530</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27252148</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverFascinated/pseuds/EverFascinated, https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverFascinated/pseuds/Nenagh24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>And by ‘It’ Stiles means Peter, because what the hell were these kidnappers thinking? He isn’t known as 'The Best Spark' for nothing. Idiots.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fictober 2020 [21]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947883</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>518</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bringing It Back</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/somanyofthekids/gifts">twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintedSorceress/gifts">PaintedSorceress</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Waking up in the dark wasn’t uncommon for Stiles. Emergencies were just as likely to happen at night as they were in the day and now that he’s an adult he doesn’t get to just roll over to let his dad deal with them. Not that he usually went back to sleep, but acting like he did meant that his dad didn’t think Stiles was listening to the police radios after he left.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So darkness didn’t really bother him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thick canvas bag he had over his head did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hands tried to reach up and pull it off before he was even fully awake, but they stopped with a sharp clang just a few inches from where they started. The handcuffs trapping his wrists then bit further into his skin as Stiles struggled into a seated position.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t like he could fake sleep with the racket he’d already made after all. That meant it was time to antagonize his captors into telling him what this was all about.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cleanup from these things was always so much easier when the kidnappers outed all of their friends first.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, can I get some help here?” He called out while shaking his head inside the confines of the bag. His nose rubbed up against the scratchy fabric, but it wasn’t quite enough. “My nose itches and I really don’t want to sneeze inside this thing. It’ll probably just rebound back into my eyes which sounds disgusting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a long silence and Stiles began to wonder if he was being monitored at all. Eyebrows rising beneath the covering, he cracked his knuckles and stretched out his shoulders as best he could. If no one was here he could always try to get the jump on them instead. That was always fun no matter <em>what</em> Peter used to say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t Stiles’ fault that Peter didn’t always get his humor, especially when the werewolf’s own had aged less like fine wine and more like rotten tomatoes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Any escape attempts were postponed when an ancient sounding speaker crackled to life with a screech.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We will be with you momentari-ri-rily. Please hold.” Came a recorded message that might have once been used at an extremely impersonal doctor’s office. The speaker clicked off and Stiles could just barely hear the muffled shuffling of feet if he concentrated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Stiles snarked to no one or possibly a microphone. He’d say it was hidden, but he couldn’t see for shit right now so that wasn’t guaranteed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not long after that, a creaky door - and they were always creaky weren’t they? Why couldn’t bad guys ever invest in some WD-40 and perform basic maintenance? - swung open admitting more than a few people judging by the sound of it. Lots of people with at least some of whom were dragging something that wasn’t light if Stiles understood the scraping noise that accompanied their grunts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I wasn’t expecting such a warm welcome.” Stiles commented to the room at large. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No one responded as they spread out in a pattern he obviously couldn’t parse from sound alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He almost wished that Peter were here with him so that he could keep Stiles in the loop with his mad werewolf senses or at least snark back with him to make things less boring, but Stiles wasn’t petty enough to wish a kidnapping on an ex. Not when he didn’t plan it himself, at least.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Someone snapped their fingers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles turned his head expectantly, eyebrows raising in the long silence that followed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another snap echoed in the room quickly followed by another. Another person finally got with the program and shuffled forward towards Stiles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This wasn’t his first rodeo, so he was ready when the bag was snatched from his head. Being prepared didn’t help the pain of his eyes adjusting to the blindingly bright light that shone from the floor in front of him. Blinking rapidly to try and clear his vision, Stiles made out the silhouettes of nearly ten people standing around the overpowered camping torch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whoa,” the handcuffs clanged against the bar again as Stiles squinted at the one standing just behind the light. “Hello to you too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good evening Mr. Stilinski.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh god, it was another guy who thought he was living in a Bond movie. Stiles was glad that all that squinting hid his instinctive reaction to roll his eyes. Peter would have had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>field day</span>
  </em>
  <span> with this guy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it still evening? I thought I went to bed at like eleven forty-five, so either this is early morning or you guys are impressively fast. Or slow if its been a whole day.” He was able to see enough of the sharply dressed man to watch his lips thin at the comments. Off to a great start. “Who are you again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Names are powerful, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mr Stilinski</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He tilted his head with a sinister smile, light glinting off of his slicked back hair as he did. The emphasis on Stiles’ name was completely unnecessary. “I suggest you keep that in mind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, but they’re also a good way to pick your own before I assign you one.” Stiles shrugged before tilting his head thoughtfully. “You look like a ‘Steven’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you like.” The man allowed with a tight smile, but Stiles wasn’t finished.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Steven Grosshair.” He proclaimed with a serious nod.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles could swear that he heard the man’s teeth grinding even as someone else in the room let out a muffled huff of laughter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grosshair looked sharply to one side before offering Stiles another toothy smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve heard good things about you, Mr. Stilinski.” The man continued as if following a script. “Things about your many skills. Spells, cantrips, curses, even necromancy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It sounded like Grosshair was trying to forget his new name, but Stiles wasn’t about to let it die.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah and I also give mad head, but that’s not on the table for kidnappers Grosshair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now that the room was quiet enough to hear a pin drop, the muffled thud from behind the group of less-finely suited people behind Grosshair was obvious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m after something very different, Mr. Stilinski.” The man’s constant use of his name in that format was making Stiles feel like he was back in school. “What I’d like from you is a promise of cooperation over the next few weeks with an option to continue our partnership once that time is up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure. That sounds like a safe and sane thing for me to do.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Stiles was fine with lying to get into a better position before wiping these guys out though. “I’ll do that. Now, can I get these handcuffs off?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The person to his left that was still holding the bag that once sat over his head stepped forward and Stiles gave them a winning smile. It was always so nice when idiots took him at his word.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another snap of Grosshair’s fingers stopped them cold before they slunk back to their previous position with slumped shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m afraid that isn’t good enough Mr. Stilinski.” Grosshair put on an obviously falsely contrite expression before clarifying. “You’ll need to make a magically binding promise first.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, I solemnly swear to do that thing.” Magically binding promises technically existed, but they were so esoteric that most people didn’t know about them. Stiles only knew about them because when Peter moved in so did his collection of ancient magical tomes and you could bet your ass that Stiles made time to read each and every one of them before they split earlier this year.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What he just said was absolutely not a magically binding promise, but chances were that this guy wouldn’t know that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grosshair sighed and shook his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or maybe he did. Huh. They really were building better idiots every day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t seem to understand the severity of your situation Mr. Stilinski.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next time someone called him ‘Mr. Stilinski’ after this, Stiles was going to smack them purely by reflex.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turning away from Stiles, which was just another mistake Grosshair could add to his growing collection, the man snapped at the group bunched up behind him. Their spines straightened, but otherwise they didn’t move.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the problem with having the same signal for everything Grosshair.” Stiles pointed out helpfully from where he sat leaning against the pole holding the handcuffs in place. “It confuses your pets when they have no context.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Obviously ignoring his hot tips, his kidnapper snapped a few more times before pointing at their feet. The others finally got with the program and scrambled to haul something up and drag it over into the light.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or ‘him’, to be more exact.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Peter?” Stiles breathed as the gagged man glared up at Grosshair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was like all Stiles’ previous thoughts had summoned him in the worst way possible. He couldn’t be sure how long they’d had Peter - though their last text exchange was just a few days ago, short as it was - but the older man was definitely looking rough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hung limply in the arms of his captors, dried blood matting parts of his hair and staining one of his numerous v-neck shirts. Judging by the scruff on Peter’s face, Stiles could tell that it must have been at least three days since his last shave as Peter </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated </span>
  </em>
  <span>leaving it that long.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As you can see, we have your lover here as collateral.” The smug smile on Grosshair’s face fanned the flames of Stiles’ anger, but that was pushed aside in favor of incredulity that was matched in the look Peter was tiredly giving him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their silent conversation was eloquent as ever, an exchange of ‘What is this guy on?’, ‘I tried to tell him’, and ‘I believe it’ passed in less than a second before the both looked back at the preening Grosshair at the same time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We broke up like two months ago, Grossy.” Unlike some people, Stiles didn’t exactly enjoy calling people by the same name all the time. “If you’re so ‘informed’ about my skills, why couldn’t you check my Facebook status?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry for thinking that ‘It’s complicated’ meant that you were still in a relationship. However, since you have no use for him I think that I can fix that complex problem for you if you like.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another snap of his fingers had the three supporting Peter glancing at each other before one hesitantly reached for Peter’s gag. Grosshair cut them off with a aggravated sigh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do I have to do everything here?” Almost too quick to follow, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun. Stiles was already unlocking his handcuffs by the time Grosshair pointed it at Peter, but he wasn’t fast enough to stop the suited man from shooting three times nearly point blank at Peter’s head, putting an end to the werewolf’s weak struggles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There you go, problem solved.” He turned to say something else, but Stiles would never know what.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No one ever would.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because while his heart fell to his shoes and his breath caught in his throat, his magic had better places to be than Stiles’ body when Peter’s dropped to the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Namely, everywhere else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The explosion of magic could be compared to a star going supernova. It ballooned from Stiles’ body and overtook the entire room in the space of a breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A breath that Peter wasn’t taking. Because Peter was gone again. He was gone and suddenly the realization that had been sneaking up on Stiles for the last two months since he asked for some space smacked him in the face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Things around him were either a little bit on fire or sparking or possibly even disintegrating, but Stiles was too busy confronting his feelings to notice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Those little things that bothered him - the clashes in their humor, the obsessive way Peter cared for his books, their little passive aggressive wars - they could be worked through. Not only could they be worked through, Stiles cared enough to want to work through them. To meet Peter halfway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because Stiles <em>loved</em> him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And now these <em>idiots</em> just took Peter away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, <em>fuck that!</em></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a finger snap of his own - which was honestly just spiteful instead of useful - Stiles used his familiarity with Peter to wipe the wounds from his body. Then taking hold of the rest of the nebulous magic surrounding them all, Stiles compressed it all into his captors’ bodies before pushing them away. Not physically of course, instead he pushed them towards death and used the metaphorical ripple they created to pull Peter back into his own body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The process wasn’t hard exactly, but usually someone would need a ritual to pull that sort of thing off, so Stiles was panting as he knelt down next to Peter’s body after he finished.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hand lifted and Peter rubbed at his own forehead before letting his fingers slide down to inspect his gag- and stubble-free jawline.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, well done.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the fond feelings that bloomed in his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re welcome.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter looked over but whatever comeback he’d planned to say was replaced by surprise as the older man caught sight of the bodies strewn haphazardly around the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All this for little old me?” Peter’s hand dropped to his chest to press against his now clean v-neck shirt just over where his heart should be. “How nec-romantic, Mr. Stilinski.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god.” He let his head fall to Peter’s shoulder in place of a slap, still tired from going zero to raise the dead. “Just marry me already so I can never hear that again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter made a startled noise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All it took was a kidnapping, a Dr. No lookalike, an annoying verbal tic, and my death for you to change your mind?” He scoffed, moving his arm back so that he could wrap it around Stiles' shoulders and pull him closer. “If I’d known that I might have set this up myself. Minus the death part of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was getting there without it!” Stiles protested even as he slung one of his own arms around Peter’s back and snuggled into the hold. “And I would hope you’d leave your death out of it. We were lucky he brought so many flunkies or I may not have been able to snatch you back this time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, we can’t have that.” A short chuckle rumbled through Peter’s chest before the man pressed a kiss to Stiles’ hair. “Now, how about we get out of here, hm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles tried to respond, but it came out in an incomprehensible mumble. He was just so used to falling asleep on Peter after years of living together that he couldn’t help it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right.” Peter said mostly to himself before shifting into a crouch to pick Stiles up. Pressing his face against that now clean v-neck, Stiles sleepily appreciated the fact that Peter went for a princess carry instead of a fireman’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he drifted off, he thought he heard Peter say ‘let’s get you home Mr. Hale’, but that may have just been his imagination.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Inspired by <a href="https://twothumbsandnostakeincanon.tumblr.com/post/632826874927726592/twothumbsandnostakeincanon-hm-have-a-sudden-and">this post</a> from <a href="https://twothumbsandnostakeincanon.tumblr.com/">twothumbsandnostakeincanon</a> with additions from <a href="https://medieval-canadian.tumblr.com/">medieval-canadian</a>. Thank you both so much for the idea, it was so great I immediately wrote this in response.</p>
<p>Prompt: do I have to do everything here?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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